


Game Day

by iamursforevrmre



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Football, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Blow Jobs, College Football, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, i'm pretty much only capable of writing fluff, quarterback!derek, stiles is in the marching band
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 22:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamursforevrmre/pseuds/iamursforevrmre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“If that’s too weird, I can drive you home,” Derek says, eyes still refusing to meet Stiles’. </i>
</p>
<p>  <i>“I don’t condone drinking and driving,” Stiles watches a hopeful grin tug up on Derek’s mouth.</i></p>
<p>  <i>“I’ve only had one beer and a few sips,” Derek finally glances up to roll his eyes and Stiles. </i></p>
<p>  <i>“Still. It’s just the concept of it.” Stiles can feel himself grin at Derek, but he quickly diverts his eyes, “I think I should stay. Y’know, to avoid breaking the law.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Game Day

Stiles is shaking his hips in sync with the music the band is playing as they line the outside of the tunnel for the players to run through. He clashes the cymbals together, grinning at Isaac because he loves home games. He loves the energy pulsing through the stadium, the vibrations that make their way from the seats through the ground to his bones. Stiles clashes his cymbals again, hearing the fans’ cheers pick up as the video being projected on the big screen is showing the players make their way through the tunnel.

Stiles’ hips are still going with the band when the team is at the entrance of the tunnel, all hopping and shaking out the nervous energy. Stiles clashes the cymbals, hips still shaking, when he catches Derek Hale’s, the starting quarterback the past three years, eyes on him. Stiles can feel himself flush, but doesn’t stop, and before he can even react the team is running out of the tunnel and onto the field. The crowd explodes.

Once the team takes the field, the entire band files back up to their seats on the east side of the stadium. The sun is beating down on them and Stiles feels hot and sticky from sweat in his long sleeves and long pants, but he _loves_ this. He _loves_ game day.

*

The only other thing Stiles equally loves as much as game day is drinking. He’s got a red cup in both hands, once upon a time one of them was Scott’s but he fucked off somewhere with Allison, and his hips are swaying with the music blasting through the speakers in the open field.

Stiles thinks he loves the Reservation as much as game day and drinking, too, because all three of them come hand-in-hand. The Res also assures that there are no police present and as much as Stiles loves drinking, he would rather not get in trouble with band and his dad.

The field is packed, like it is throughout every home game, and drunk sorority girls are moving through in flocks. Stiles drains the contents of the cup in his right hand and moving to the other cup. He’s finally got a nice buzz going when he notices an unordinary amount of girls circled together.

Stiles slinks closer to get a better look, finally noticing Hale and Boyd being attacked by an ungodly amount of girls. More girls than Stiles will probably ever talk to in his entire life. 

A hot blonde, clad in a leather jacket with a red school shirt underneath, pushes through the girls (and ignoring all of their annoyed comments) and grabs Boyd by the collar and reeling him in for a kiss. Stiles sees Hale roll his eyes and try to look for a get-a-way route. 

“Hey, dude!” Stiles calls out, surprising not only Hale but himself, “I have to show you the thing from earlier!” 

Stiles stumbles through the girls, mumbling that the thing he really wants to show Hale more than anything is his dick. A few girls try to push him back but _seriously_ anyone with eyes knows that none of these girls are getting lucky with the star quarterback tonight.

He finally reaches Hale, he can feel his face flushed but he’s got enough beer pumping through his system that this stupid idea seems like it would be a good one. Stiles grabs Hale’s wrist, pulling him along and shoves his beer in Hale’s free hand.

“Looks like you could use that more than me right now,” Stiles mumbles, dragging him off to a dark, secluded area. 

“Thanks,” Hale finally says, gulping down the rest of Stiles’ beer, “I owe you one.”

“Just repay me that beer sometime and we’ll call it even,” Stiles grins, trying and failing so, so miserably at being smooth. Stiles stumbles a little, feeling Hale’s warm hand on his forearm to steady him. 

“You’re the one with the cymbals.” Hale says, and Stiles is so glad it’s pretty dark where they’re standing because his face flushes red. Stiles almost forgot earlier, before they took the field, Derek looking at Stiles’ ridiculous dance moves in sync with the music and making stupid faces at Isaac. 

“Yeah, I, um. Yeah that’s me.” Stiles replies dumbly.

“I’ve got better beer than Busch Light at my house,” Hale smirks, “You could come back there with me if you’d like. For that beer.”

Stiles grins widely, “Yeah, yeah of course. For the beer.”

Derek leads them, Stiles only half a step behind, as he nods at Boyd in a _‘see-you-later-I’m-leaving_ sort of nod before they’re off the field and into the surrounding neighborhood. Derek’s house only happens to be a few blocks away, which looks like it’s a 10 minute walk from Stiles’ apartment, and it’s completely dark in the inside.

“No roommates?” Stiles asks, kicking off his shoes on the mat just inside the door. 

“Boyd and I live here,” He says throwing the keys on the table and wandering what looks like the kitchen. Hale flips the switch on and Stiles can easily maneuver into a stool lining the island. 

“Sorry for making you leave early,” Stiles says as Hale grabs a couple Coors from the fridge and kicks the door shut. Hale twists off both caps and slides the bottle across the counter to Stiles. “I love the blue mountains.”

“I would’ve left the second Boyd found Erica, anyways.”

“That’s not the typical behavior I’ve heard about you and your reputation,” Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. And it’s true, for the last four years, Stiles has always head about how much of a partier and womanizer the starting quarterback is.

“My reputation is so wrong it hurts,” He says, corners of his mouth lifting up, “I’m not much of a partier; I’d rather go to the bar and grab a couple beers with Boyd and a few other guys from the team and come home to read.”

“Color me surprised.”

“Shows how often I even do this, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Derek Hale,” He supplies holding a hand out for Stiles. Stiles can feel his eyebrow lift up again.

“It’s okay, dude, the whole state of California knows who you are. I’m Stiles Stilinski,” Stiles supplies, shaking Derek’s hand then taking a swig of beer.

“I know who you are, Stiles,” Derek rolls his eyes and Stiles almost chokes out his beer.

“ _What_?” He probably looks unattractively bewildered, but he doesn’t care, “ _How_?”

Derek shrugs and averts his eyes, fingers picking at the blue mountains on the label of his beer. 

“We’re always on the field together. I’ve always noticed you and Boyd’s girlfriend, Erica, had a class with you sophomore year so I learned your name through her. And I dunno, I guess I’ve just always seen you around.”

Stiles can’t even believe that this is the same guy in front of him that always seems to have confidence in everything he does, especially when he’s on the field. He can’t believe that _Derek Hale_ is biting his lip and looking extremely nervous as he tells Stiles this confession, but always looks completely unfazed as he passes or rushes the ball on a field as eleven defensive men are out for blood.

“If that’s too weird, I can drive you home,” Derek says, eyes still refusing to meet Stiles’. 

“I don’t condone drinking and driving,” Stiles watches a hopeful grin tug up on Derek’s mouth.

“I’ve only had one beer and a few sips,” Derek finally glances up to roll his eyes and Stiles. 

“Still. It’s just the concept of it.” Stiles can feel himself grin at Derek, but he quickly diverts his eyes, “I think I should stay. Y’know, to avoid breaking the law.”

Derek’s eyes are torn from the counter and they’re searching Stiles’ face and suddenly, he feels so nervous. Maybe he had gone too far, that Derek just wanted to be his friend or wanted to copy his notes or something. 

“Unless that’s too presumptuous?” 

“N-no,” Derek chokes out, “Not at all.”

Derek’s around the counter in a flash, tugging Stiles off the stool and towards the living room, their beers completely abandoned. He feels Derek pull him down on the couch, and they’re both facing each other. Stiles feels awkward all of five seconds before he’s being pulled into a kiss by _star quarterback Derek Hale_. Stiles’ senses are on overload of _stubble_ and _soft lips_ and _cologne_ and _holy shit holy shit that’s Derek’s tongue_.

Suddenly, Derek is pulling Stiles closer and closer and he’s flinging his legs on either side of Derek, and all Stiles can think is _holy shit I’m straddling Derek Hale_ before he can finally shut his brain off. 

Stiles is panting, Derek’s mouth sucking on Stiles’ neck as he grinds his hips down onto Derek when the door opens. Stiles groans out of frustration, head falling down on Derek’s shoulder as he listens to Derek try to control his breathing. 

“Free porn!” He hears a a girl squeal from the doorway, and Stiles pushes himself off of Derek, plopping himself down next to him and covering his crotch with a throw pillow while he mentally wills his boner down.

“Erica, Boyd,” Derek points lazily at the two standing in the doorway, “This is Stiles. Stiles, this is Erica and Boyd.”

“You don’t have to stop on our account,” Erica leers and Stiles buries himself deeper into the couch cushion. 

“Yeah we do,” Stiles mutters miserably, “my boner’s gone.”

Erica lets out a surprised laugh and Boyd rolls his eyes. Derek drops his arms across Stiles’ shoulders, pulling him closer into his side where he’s radiating heat. Stiles lazily throws the pillow on his lap at Erica; she catches it easily.

Boyd puts a movie in the DVD player plugged into the TV in the living room as they settle on the love seat on the other side of the room. Stiles lasts thirty minutes into the movie with his head resting on Derek’s shoulder before he’s fidgeting and placing his tracing his index finger absentmindedly up and down the seam of Derek’s jeans.

Derek abruptly stands up, grabbing Stiles’ hand and pulling him up. Stiles sees Boyd raise an eyebrow at them, and luckily Erica is asleep on his shoulder, before Derek mutters a goodnight and pulls Stiles up the stairs and into the first room on the right. 

Stiles suddenly feels shy as he looks around to see the room, which is meticulously clean and definitely isn’t what Stiles expected Derek’s room to look like. There are framed pictures littering the room a long with a few posters of retired NFL players tacked on the wall. 

All of the sudden, Stiles is being pushed back onto the bed and barely has anytime to recover as he flops down and Derek is on top of him, elbows caged on either side of his head to keep from putting all his weight down on Stiles. 

“God you’re driving me crazy,” Derek says between kisses, and Stiles snakes his hands up under his shirt. Derek shifts, getting his mouth on Stiles’ neck, and Stiles can feel the stubble dragging across his skin and all the sudden Derek’s mouth is sucking and nipping at Stiles’ neck. 

“Fuck,” Stiles throws his head back, letting Derek’s tongue work over his Adam’s apple and Derek works his way back up towards Stiles’ mouth, licking his way inside. Derek pulls away, leaving Stiles panting as tugs at the hem of Derek’s shirt and rasps out an “Off.”

They’re both finally stripped of all their clothes, and before Stiles can even have his oh fuck skin-on-skin contact freak out, he’s distracted by Derek’s abdomen. Stiles knew that Derek was muscular, and that the football team’s dietician kept Derek is good shape, but _holy shit_. 

Stiles flips them over on the bed, and licking a stripe across Derek’s abdomen. He can feel the muscles flex beneath him and feels Derek shiver. 

“Fuck, you are so damn hot.” Stiles says, leaning down to nip and one of Derek’s nipples as Derek bucks up. Stiles grins, aligning their hips so he can drag his cock against Derek’s. Stiles hears Derek groan before he grinds his hips down again, feeling Derek buck up to get more. 

“Fuck,” Stiles groans out, as Derek flips them over. “Fuck, Derek.”

“Can I blow you?” Derek asks, his voice sounds completely _wrecked_.

“Jesus fucking Christ, yes. _Yes_.”

Derek doesn’t waste much time teasing Stiles, he gets right to business, taking Stiles in his mouth. Stiles groans, carding his fingers through Derek’s hair, and bucking his hips up. Derek’s got a hand pushing down on his hips, mouth working up and down in a steady rhythm as he hollows his cheeks around Stiles’ cock. Stiles lets out a moan as he sees Derek glance up at him through his eyelashes, making a content noise. 

Stiles can feel the warmth starting at the base of his spine, and fuck he’s so close, he can’t even believe how fucking hot Derek looks like this. Stiles can feel himself choke out a moan.

“Fuck, Derek, I’m close, fuck.” He moans out, looking down to see Derek’s relaxed mouth and jaw. Derek swallows more of him down and Stiles can feel his eyes roll back at the burst of pleasure. He feels Derek’s fingers flex a little where they are at the base of his dick. “Fuck.”

He feels Derek’s tongue on the underside of his dick and then working up to swirl at the tip of his cock before he’s back to bobbing, and finally Stiles is coming. Derek doesn’t pull away, just swallows all of him down before making an appreciative noise. Derek’s finally pulling himself up and towards Stiles, kissing him slow and dirty.  
 “C’mon, man, let me reciprocate,” Stiles says between Derek assaulting his mouth and this stubble burn is going to be a _bitch_ tomorrow.

“Uh,” Stiles can see the tips of Derek’s ears go red, “You don’t have to.”  
 “What do you mean? Dude, of course I do.” Stiles glances down, “Oh. Oh fuck. That’s really fucking hot.”

Derek rolls his eyes and then he’s rolling off Stiles and planting his feet on the ground. He pulls on a random pair of boxers from the ground, Stiles actually thinks their _his_ and his dick gives a twitch at seeing Derek in his boxers, and disappearing out the door. He’s only gone a few seconds, but he’s back with a wash cloth. He wipes both of them down half-heartedly and tossing it somewhere on the floor. Derek’s climbing back into bed, manhandling Stiles to be the little spoon, and resting his heavy arm across Stiles’ hips.

“This, um,” Derek starts, clearing his throat nervously. “This like, isn’t a one time thing, right?”

“Of course not, dude.” Stiles softly smacks Derek’s arm, “You can’t get rid of me _that_ easily.”

“Good,” Stiles feels Derek press his face between the crook of Stiles’ neck and shoulder. “I should take you out on a date, though. I should’ve done that before orgasms.”

“Dude, I am so not complaining about orgasms.”

“Yeah, well, you better rest up.”

“Why? Round two?” Stiles asks hopefully, but he feels Derek snort against his skin and it makes a shiver ripple throughout his body.  
 “Nope, Boyd and Erica are going to give us hell tomorrow.”

“Shit,” Stiles whispers, feeling a little worried, but it isn’t long before his breathing slows down and Derek’s tightening his grip around Stiles, pulling him closer to his chest, and he’s falling asleep. 

*

Saturday rolls around before he knows it and they’re lining the tunnel, waiting for the players to come bursting from the locker room and onto the field. Stiles has his cymbals again, and he’s jumping in place and shaking his hips while making faces at Isaac like any other home game.

The crowd’s cheers are getting louder and louder as the video shows the team lined up just as the concrete of the tunnel hits the turf. The energy buzzing through the stadium is palpable to the marching band and to the football team. Stiles locks eyes with Derek, who is shaking out his nerves by jumping up and down in place. Stiles watches Derek drag his eyes down the length of Stiles’ body, stopping to watch his hips, before his eyes snap back up Stiles’. 

Derek winks at Stiles as the crowd’s erupts in cheers as the team files out of the tunnel and onto the field. 

Fuck Stiles loves game day.


End file.
